#jacket sizing

[safetyall]

The Karbon SKI Jacket is a high-performance, technical outerwear piece designed for winter sports enthusiasts, particularly skiers and snowboarders. While I don't have a specific model's full details without more context, Karbon is known for creating jackets that combine functionality with style.

#jacket #ski #skincaredaily #skincareregime #skiny #skinaddict

[tea-time-terrier]

Salmon Sun!

She's finally done, my sewing and printing project! It's a faux quilted jacket with raw edge appliqué fish and a bit of embroidery <3

[tophat-69]

I’m likely going to write it into my ZaunDads fic if there’s the room for it, but I’m also going to present to you all a headcanon for your consideration:

There are a lot of fun posts about Young Silco in the mines because the man is waifishly thin and pretty, so what was he doing down there.

My new headcanon: Silco was a blaster.

In mining you’d get a two-man team, one to aim and rotate a chisel, the other to hammer the shit out of it to drill a hole, and then one of them would pour black powder into it and blow it.

That was Vander and Silco.

It’s skilled work. It’s dangerous work. It exposes you to the gasses of the mines, requires you getting the hell out of the way fast, and it also would put two young revolutionaries near explosives.

But it also would explain Powder’s name.

Violet’s name was chosen by Vander, and Powder’s name was in honor of Silco. Later making their affinity for each man even more significant. Including Vi’s use of Vander’s gauntlets and Jinx’s use of explosives.

Thank you for your consideration of this headcanon, now please carry on with your day.

[rotteneldritchhorror]

Eddie obviously knows how to sew (hes not only dirt-poor living off of a single consistent paycheck and whatever he earns selling drugs, but hes also a punk- theres no way he DOESNT know how to sew), but steve most definitely does. not. one of his shirts get a hole and he throws it out.

When eddie first witnesses this, hes fucking MORTIFIED and ends up digging a t-shirt out of the trash and sewing the hole closed and fixing the loose stitching on the hem and gives steve a lecture about not wasting fabric and money.

And from then on, steve just shows up at the munson household every now and then with various clothes in his arms, asking eddie to fix them for him.

[harveyguillensource]

Harvey serving sheer drama at the 2024 Emmys.

[samualcheese]

not expecting this to get as many likes as the old one but hey. i remade that lineup

Happy halloween btw ! i was locking in on this so i didnt have time to make something for it. sad

[st4rbwrry]

so i’m finally catching up w tokyo rev, and baby DAMN did i forget how fine taiju was UNHHHH.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

pony whose wardrobe is 99% his brothers hand me downs u are so important to me

[seasphynx]

Another cross reference between Timebomb and Glostflower couple that puffa jacket tho the size gap is too cute!

Are you telling me we were robbed of that moment in Arcane?! 🫠

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Tried to shop for a field jacket online and gave up.

I don't want to look like someone's uwu smol girlfriend I want to look like a deadbeat dad in a zombie apocalypse

[cleocatrablossy]

Silly thought: what if Stan had an old leather jacket. Say, Shermie’s their older brother by around a decade or so and joins the military to fight in Vietnam. He’s originally put into the air force before being changed to some other part of the military. But he got the issued bomber jacket, and decided to send it back to Stanley. And Stanley cherished the thing, wearing it whenever weather permitted. Usually to the beach on windy days since it actually kept the gusts out. Usually he dressed for the weather, but if he was going to be caught by a sudden chill or breeze(or even rain though he generally tried to avoid damaging the jacket) it served him well. So at some point he started keeping it in his car when it was warmer.

When he got kicked out, it was the last gift from a family member he still had. So Stanley got even more protective of the jacket, but wear and tear always happens so as time went on he had to patch it up on occasion. Really whoever decided to put sleek loosely bound fabric in the lining was an idiot, because he ended up having to replace most of it. When he could he’d try to make the patches prettier or at least like a fashion statement, though most of them ended up being made of cheap- if not hardy- shirts and pants that reached a point of no return.

At some point though he decided that 1: it was likely becoming more expensive to fix the jacket then to just save up to get a new one and 2: he really didn’t want to lose that gift from the only member of his family that wasn’t there that night- and didn’t just let it happen. So he went back to storing the leather jacket once it hit spring and he ended up saving for the red hoodie. Sure it wasn’t quite as good against the wind or at general insulation, but it could survive getting wet just fine and when he zipped it up all the way didn’t jab into his jaw when slouching. Plus it had a hood and so offered some extra warmth for his head and neck.

After the portal incident, when he eventually moved his stuff from his car to the shack he brought the jacket inside. It went to the back of a chair for a while, but at some point he started using the closet and decided to free up some space by moving it there. He’d wear it down in the basement on colder days, and as the Murder Hut began to turn a mild profit he sat down and made sure it was in as good a condition as he could get it. He even sewed in a few patches in the lining using merchandise he couldn’t sell. Every piece of fabric in there was already tied to one event or another, so it only seemed fitting to have some from the tourist trap he was running now.

As the Mr. Mystery character evolved and he got clothes that were actually good for the weather he wore the jacket less and less. By the late 90s it was rare to see him in it.

But when he was called up for the birth of Dipper and Mabel he wore it. Shermie obviously had questions on why ‘Stanford’ had the jacket that he’d given to Stanley, and about the origins of some of the patches. Stan waved it off as the patches being mostly from highschool and it having been left in their room. Shermie let him off the hook, but they both knew that it was just him.

The jacket officially entered retirement to the closet after that.

Until one summer when the twins were twelve and came up to visit. Mabel was working on some project or other and was struggling with some stitches, and Stan offered to help. Mabel said she didn’t trust him with knowing how to sew things on properly, and he said he could prove it. So out came the jacket, old patches and all. They got to finish Mabel’s project together.

When Waddles got snatched by a pterosaur and Mabel insisted on getting him back, and then sticking next to the pig at all times, Stan decided that Mabel was absolutely going to wind up in danger in some way shape or form.

So he gave her the leather jacket, explaining it was passed down to him at around her age when he was starting to get into all sorts of trouble as well. He doesn’t say it was from his brother because no one knew if they’d see him again. They go through the history of each patch, and he makes some stories up when the actual explanation wouldn’t be good for Mabel to hear. She held onto it all summer, even if she didn’t wear it too much- it got hot and she was already always in a sweater.

But he and Ford managed to visit the twins in Piedmont during their spring break, and Mabel was wearing the jacket. Proudly she went ahead and showed off the new patches she’d sewn in. Of course there was a rough outline of a pig that she’d gone and embroidered some finer details on; then a pine tree, shooting star, fish, and six fingered hand; some general cryptid patches(at least one of which was stolen from Dipper), and cute vibrant patterns wherever there was something that genuinely needed patching.

[khlorine]

I was SO cold taking this lmao. Coord from the first 2025 market day at Doll Funeral! Tried to match the reds in the gobelin with the red on my cutsew and tights, but this lighting did not do that justice so you can barely tell lol. Was nice to wear something cute and work an event after being sick and busy every single day. Now I'm back to school work.

[bunnyboy-juice]

what a wonderful day to be a dyke ❤️‍🔥

[harveyguillensource]

Harvey’s photoshoot and interview with Christian Trippe’s Zero Nine Magazine has been published!

In the interview, Harvey talks about cast dynamics on Shadows, his friendship and an upcoming project with Kayvan, fears and hopes for the future, and his role in Companion.

[onlykiwi]

ok king! serve in your big jacket!!

[tinkerbellini21]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 9

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort

Author's notes: I spent my first day of break at work, and I felt bad I didn't get this posted last night!

Masterlist | Taglist

Bobby arrived after giving his statement to the police. He looked absolutely shattered- bloodshot eyes, worry lines etched into his face. Hen had told you that Bobby saw Buck as a son, taking him under his wing. He didn’t say much, occasionally turning to talk to Athena. You hadn’t learned much about her yet— only that she was Bobby’s wife and a police sergeant— but this wasn’t the time nor the place for introductions. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm as she leaned her head against him. Like she was the glue holding him together, bending to fit around his slumped over figure. 

After Maddie had her meltdown, she was able to hold herself together- that was until she had made the call to her parents. She was not looking forward to it. She knew what their answer was going to be. Chimney had convinced her that they deserved to know that Buck was in the hospital. 

You understood her hesitation when she made the call. They weren’t coming. They would call when he was awake. Maddie was silent for a few beats. 

Then she let loose, years of hurt and frustration boiling over. And she did not hold back.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Maddie wasn’t having it.

“Do you know how much this will hurt him? His own parents couldn’t even make it to see him. Scratch that, you aren’t even parents! My brother could have died, Phillip and Margaret, and you can’t take the time to come see him?”

She’d spat out their names, words seething with fire. They tried to speak but she cut them off, not wanting to hear anything else leave their lips.

“Don’t even worry about him. His family is here!” Maddie’s voice breaks with a high note..

You glanced up discreetly, no one daring to look directly at her. She paced along the wall, tearing into her parents. You noticed her pulling on the ends of her sleeve with her free hand, an anxious tick you know all too well.

“I’ll deal with his hurt, like always.”

The fabric stretches as she wraps it around her fist, bringing it to her side. Soon after, she started hitting her thigh, tears in her eyes. 

It’s silent, not even a muffled response through the phone. All of the white noise from the waiting room is seemingly gone. As if time had halted to a stop. 

“I hate you every time his face drops and he—” 

She paused as her voice broke with a hiccup. She takes a deep breath and pushes it out, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing her own hurt.

You closed your eyes, that familiar ache settling in your bones. How could someone disregard their own son, much less someone as kind and loyal as Buck? Someone who yearned for his parent’s love and attention. 

“He deserves so much more. So you know what Mom and Dad?” A short pause, a breath of courage as she mocks them. “Fuck you.”

She hangs up before they can respond. Chimney doesn’t move. No one speaks.  Everyone is on the same page—Maddie needs space. 

She pressed her lips to her covered knuckles, turning to look out the window. Her chest rose with a deep breath, exhaling shakily.Her other arm, wrapped around her torso. She was trying to hold herself together. 

 She tried to make sure that everyone he loved was here. But she couldn’t do that. 

She couldn’t do anything but wait. 

And her heart was breaking. 

It was quiet again after that. You had opened up your phone to catch up on the news. When that got boring, you laid your head back against the wall with your eyes closed. Nurses were talking amongst themselves. You could hear the mechanical lock of a door being opened and then the sound of it shutting with a gentle thud.

Eddie volunteered to go on a food run after his stomach made a loud growl. You were adamant that you weren’t hungry, but he had still gotten you something to eat, that wasn’t a granola bar. You apologized again for your reaction earlier but he laid a hand on your shoulder, looked you in your eyes, and told you not to worry about it. With some gentle coaxing, he had managed to get you to eat a small bag of Cheez-Its.

With each small update that signaled Buck was stable, the waiting room crowd slowly dissipated. At one point, you were counting how many steps it took a person to come or go, the repetitive nature keeping your mind occupied from the negative thought. While some left on calls, others were eager to get out of the hospital, the place that typically meant something bad had happened.

The last update you remember was they were starting to repair the achilles tendon in his leg. That was around 10:45. You were still exhausted from your own trauma the previous week, and staying up this late was already a challenge. But you fought to stay awake. Or at least tried.

The first time you fell asleep, it wasn’t for long. You startled awake with a gasp, covered in cold sweat. You brought your hands to your head, taking even breaths to calm your racing heart. To ease the pounding in your ears.

The nightmare happened again, but with a different twist. This time, Dr. Daniel’s wasn’t on the floor. Buck was. You were so close to getting him into the office, but it was too late. Dead. Both of you. 

You could feel eyes on you. Whose? You weren’t sure. But you had an inkling it was Eddie. You take another deep breath. Your ankle starts to shake back and forth anxiously. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” 

You take another deep breath, now aware that Eddie is watching you. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. You didn’t feel alone. Nor did you feel pressured to tell him about it. 

 You dug your fingertips into the corner of your eyes to help slow the headache coming on. It was strange to think that just 24 hours ago, you were in bed with Buck who was fighting your nightmares off. 

“I used to get them badly after Afghanistan.” Eddie opens up, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Therapy helped a lot. I journaled for a bit, and it was surprisingly useful. It gave me things to remember to talk about in therapy. And getting it out of your head, and onto paper—it makes it easier to process.”

You let it sit out there for a moment. Would it be okay to talk about your trauma when he experienced far worse in Afghanistan? He had technically opened the door, but in comparison to you? 

Stop it. Stop comparing your trauma to others. You deserve your feelings, too. 

The words, a combination from your therapist and Buck, ring in the back of your head. You turn your body to face him, straightening up to present yourself as more open. 

“I haven’t had a real bad one until I went back to campus Monday, and saw Buck.”

“Yeah, I heard someone was your dream catcher last night.” Eddie teases, stretching his legs out. You let out a laugh, louder than you’d like to admit. 

“He called himself my knight in shining turnout gear.”

That gains the attention of a few others, who join in on the laughing. Even Bobby looks a little amused as he rolls an empty coffee cup in between his hands. 

“He’s Prince Charming for sure.” Athena chips in whilst walking back with another cup of coffee for Bobby. “Very endearing, wormed his way into my heart.”

“That was back when Buck stole fire trucks and slep-”

Hen shuts Chimney down fast.

“Nope, not here or now, Chim.”

The second time you fall asleep, you’re gently shaken awake. 

You blink your eyes open slowly. The white of the room is still blinding. You would think they’d dim it down for the night. The faint smell of coffee remains in the air. Your neck is stiff. You exhale sleepily, finding the strength to sit up and force your eyes open. Hen is standing above you.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” 

“Mmhm, what time is it?”

“A little after four.” She responds, standing above you. “He’s out of surgery.”

You’re wide awake now. 

Buck is out. He’s okay.

“For how long?”

“About an hour. They let everyone see him briefly, and we didn’t want to wake you until everyone was done.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know were holding. Tension you were holding in your shoulders slowly starts to melt away.

“Can I see him?”

Hen nods, taking you up to the next floor to see Buck in the ICU. You feel stuck, but instead of unable to move, you want to run down the halls to see him. You don’t have any trouble moving once the elevator reaches the floor. However, the walk down the hall seems longer than it is. 

The room is dark, illuminated by the small light above the bed. The beeping of the heart monitor is steady, a light whoosh of oxygen filling the silence.

Maddie leans across the railing, fingers combing through Buck’s hair. He doesn’t stir.

His leg is held by a sling, cushioned by a pillow. Bandages cover his knee down to his ankle, holding him still. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. You reach for Hen’s arm to steady yourself without thinking. Holding you up when Buck can’t. 

“Oh Evan.” You whisper softly, tilting your head, a sad upturn of your lips settling in.

“He’ll be mostly out of it for the next few hours.” Maddie pauses, tilting her head to briefly look your way. You don’t miss the adoration on her face. “He ordered flowers and was going to bring you coffee and a granola bar for your first day of teaching. He was so proud of his plan.” 

You bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry.

God damn it, Buck. You told me you’d be safe. 

“I can go,” you offer, feet frozen in place. You bend your elbows, anxiously playing with your fingers. You don’t want to leave.Your mind is screaming at you to stay. But he’s not your family. 

“No.” She gives a firm shake of her head. “He’d want you here.” 

You don’t know if she’s just being nice. Or if she really wants you here. After today, you hope she does.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t want her to feel pressured to say yes.

“I am.” She motions to the empty seat. “Besides, they think you’re his girlfriend.”

Your heart stutters . Maddie told them you’re his girlfriend? 

“Sit down. I’ll walk Hen out, I have to use the restroom anyway.”

You glance up at Hen, who gives a smile. Courage to move. You carefully sit down.

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as they leave, you reach over to grab his hand, careful not to disturb the IV. His hand is warm, and you carefully wrap your hand around his fingers. . 

You lose yourself in your thoughts. Or maybe you’re just groggy, because you actually aren’t thinking. You’re zoned out. 

You feel like a muscle has moved in his hand. You look down for a few seconds, seeing nothing. You’re imagining things.

Your eyes drift down to his leg, which is bandaged and being held together with pins. After a whole truck fell ontop of him, you were surprised that they didn’t have to amputate his leg. It’s a miracle they were even able to save his leg. 

“Ow.”

Your brows furrow together. Are you hearing things now? 

A low, pained groan gets your attention. Buck’s lashes flutter, eyes fighting to stay open. He barely lifts his head, seeing his leg wrapped up. His face drops in devastation. 

Then he spots you, his eyes lighting up. 

You push yourself up, fingers tightening around his hand as he squeezes back, warm and strong. 

“Hey, don’t move, okay? I’ll get a nurse.” 

“Wait.”

He’s groggy, his voice soft, slow. You keep a hold of his hand, watching him. You stay quiet. Let him take this all in. The dark room. The beeping of machines. The pain. His blue orbs are glossy, confused. It’d be cute if he wasn’t almost crushed to death by a firetruck.

“I tried.”

“I know.” You let go of his hand. Your hands are shaking, nervous at the idea of jolting him wrong and causing him pain. Your fingers lightly graze the skin of his cheek, and when he 

shows no signs of being hurt, you gently lay your palms on his face. You rub your fingers up and down his jawline. He lets his eyes shut. “I heard you asked about me.”

“Mhmm, I did.” Except it comes out as more of a question. It sounds like something he’d do, but he likely doesn’t remember it. You laugh softly, a tear rolling down your cheek. You quickly reach up to wipe it away.

“Kiss me.”

His eyes are open again. With a bite of your lip, your eyes flutter shut. It wouldn’t be right for you to kiss him. Not in this state. He’s still coming out of anesthesia.

“Here.” You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead. Your lips linger, and he leans into your touch. “Ask me again later, okay?”

“Mmmkay.”

“Rest. Maddie will be back soon. She’s going to be so happy that you’re awake.”

A long pause of silence. You sit back down, hand returning to him. He firmly holds onto your hand, and you rub your thumb soothingly across his palm.

“Y/N.”

“Evan.”

“Thank you.”

You think back to earlier, Maddie pacing the length of the waiting room, doing her best to stay cool until she exploded. Maybe, deep in his mind, he knows that his parents aren’t coming. You swallow hard, leaning forward to stroke his cheek. 

“I’ll always be here, Evan.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz